Opening the Door
by Cobweb
Summary: Veronica opens the door to Logan and is surprised by what she finds. Disclaimer: Rob Thomas owns my soul and these characters. VL pairing, some language.


Author's Notes:

1. Rob Thomas owns my soul. And these characters.

2. Written before Mars.vs. Mars, obviously

"I want you to find my mother."

Maybe opening her door at 10:30 at night was a bad idea. You never know what you might find out there. Poisoned cookies. A dead rat nailed to your door. Or, a grieving 09er who hates your guts and must be in the middle of a psychotic episode.

Because his mother is dead—threw herself off the Coronado bridge—and your detecting skills don't run to deep sea diving and underwater exploration.

"Logan…." she starts.

"I know you think I'm crazy," he spits out, as if he'd expected this. "But I'll pay you to do that Nancy Drew routine of yours and find my mother."

It might be pity, it might be curiosity, or it might be the words "I'll pay you" coming from the lips of Logan Echolls. Veronica opens the door and says, "Come in."

15 minutes later, she's wondering why she opened the door in the first place. She's always wondered how it would feel to be able to exploit a desperate 09er for his money, and now that she has the opportunity, she realizes it doesn't feel so good.

She wants to be straight with him. She knows firsthand how the hope is what kills you, especially when it's false hope. The idea that maybe somehow this is all a dream, a nightmare, and you'll wake up and it will be your 17th birthday and Lilly will call you on the phone first thing in the morning to wish you happy birthday and hint at the wickedly awesome gift she'd bought for you, and your mom will knock on the door and ask you how many waffles you want for breakfast.

She racks her memory for knowledge about suicides gleaned from reading and from listening to her dad's shop talk.

"A lot of people who," she pauses, trying to find the right words, "are feeling a lot of despair give away their prized possessions before" she's choosing her words carefully, not wanting to set him off, "the end."

"You mean, people who off themselves don't take their stuff with them. This is different. My mom didn't plan this. He" he draws out the word in contempt "did this to her. He threatened her and told her what he'd do to her, how he'd get her back."

"So she got him back by killing herself?"

"No! By pretending to kill herself. To make him suffer. Because that's what she was doing. Getting even with him."

Veronica knows how that feels, the desire for revenge. Get mad, make a plan, get even, walk away with no bruises, no scars. Except for the ones left over from violating every ideal you ever had about honesty and integrity.

And she's never gotten even by leaving someone behind, someone in pain. She tilts her head and watches Logan as he paces in her apartment. He doesn't look like someone in pain; he looks like someone about ready to jump out of his skin. And she realizes why she let him in. Because she wants to help him. It must be some vestige of feeling left for him from before Lilly died and everything went to hell, but this is Logan, who used to be her friend, and she wishes she could make him stop hurting.

"I'll take the case, Logan. But I'll need more information, and I can't start until tomorrow morning when I can make some calls."

"Great!" he says. "Great!" But he doesn't look any happier than he did when he showed up, and he's wrapping his arms around himself again, as if he's trying to hold himself still.

"Are you ok?" she asks.

"I'm … cold," he says, as if it surprises him. She knows what he's feeling. She felt that way after her mom left, like her entire body had been turned off to the outside world, like any moment she might get sucked down into an abyss of pain and fear and rage, and the only thing protecting her from that was the feeling of numbness and cold.

She knows what he's feeling.

She can't help it. She reaches out to him. If someone, one of her old friends, Duncan, Logan himself, had just reached out to her? If she hadn't been all alone? Her hand touches his; it's cold. She can't believe what she's doing, but she pulls him into an embrace, tries to make him feel warm. For a moment, it feels right. After all, she is a marshmallow.

"I'm not going to cry in your arms," he says, voice husky but sardonic. She jumps away, startled, embarrassed.

He's not grateful that she's tried to reach out. In fact, she thinks he's pretty mad.

"You think you can pity me?" he says, voice shaking. With what kind of emotion? Rage? Hatred? "You think I came here for that? I came here because you are going to find my mother. Not be my mother."

He gets closer to her, gets in her face.

"You're Nancy Drew, not Dr. Phil. I don't need the crap psychotherapy bullshit you probably got from Cosmo magazine," he's almost snarling at her.

"And this is the way to get me to help you? Sorry. I prefer cold hard cash to insults as a method of payment."

"Mercenary bitch, aren't you. I guess Daddy can't give you everything the Kane family could, so you have to use your" he lets his eyes travel up and down her body "considerable charms to supplement your income."

He's scored a hit, but he doesn't know about her possible relation to the Kanes, so he doesn't know why. But the knowledge that he's gotten under his skin seems to be exciting him, and his arms are by his side now instead of wrapped around himself. She tries to stay calm, but he's got a predatory look about him now, as if giving her the onceover has given him a good idea, and she's hoping it's not the same idea that she's gotten, because the thought is freaking her out. She tries her firm Oprah voice again.

"Back off, Logan. I'm trying to help. You're not the only one who's ever lost someone. I know how it feels…."

He looks away a moment, and she feels a sting of conscience. She's been here before. Roughed up, alone, lashing out. "You don't know how it feels. I haven't lost my mom. She's out there hiding from him. And you're supposed to be finding her. Not getting all touchy-feely."

He turns back to her, grabs her neck with his hand.

"Where do you get off trying to 'feel my pain'? You want to feel something, Ronnie? Try this."

And with that he kisses her. Just like that. Not soft and wet and teary the way it happens in the soap operas, the griever seeking comfort in an illicit but meaningful touch. This is hard and angry and it kind of hurts. But at least now he's mad, not cold and numb, and she's not really sure what he's going to do, and maybe if she lets him do this he will get disgusted with himself and walk away and forget he ever asked her to go on this wild goose chase about his mother.

But he's not disgusted, and he's not walking away, and before she realizes it, she's opened her mouth because it hurts less that way. And he's rubbing his body against hers and she's kind of enjoying it because no one's touched her that way since Troy and damn it, she's a 17 year old woman with hormones and needs and this whole night is not really happening anyway.

And now his lips have moved down to her throat and his hand is reaching under her sweatshirt and she's leaning against the wall where he's backed her and he's just about devouring her. One of her hands is around his back, pulling him to her, and the other one is holding on to his shirt. He grabs that hand and pushes it down to the front of his jeans, muttering into her neck, "Fuck, Ronnie, it's not like you've never done this before."

And that's the same kind of feeling she gets whenever she steps into her shower. She pushes at him, hard, and he stumbles back. He wipes his lips with the back of his hand and smirks at her.

"What's up? Vvvveronica," he takes pleasure in drawing out the V as in Virgin. "You want to get paid for this too? OK, I'll double your usual fee."

"You sound like a guy who's used to paying women to grope him."

"Good one. Bet your clients" he uses finger quotes "like that smart little mouth of yours."

"Get out."

But he's not moving.

"I know I'm no Duncan, but I've got a lot" he waggles his eyebrows "to offer."

"You're crossing the line, Logan. Get out of here now." She's trying to think where her taser is now.

"You're not backing out of this, Veronica. We had a deal. You're going to find my mother. So don't pull this outraged virgin act with me to get out of it."

He thinks he can order her around, but she's Veronica Mars 2.0, with a hard brittle shell covering up her marshmallowy inside. She's the one who has the power, the know-how he needs. He'll answer to her, not the other way around.

"How badly do you want my help," she asks, not believing what she's doing, not believing she'd be capable of exploiting anyone's grief and pain, not even Logan Echolls'. "Are you willing to beg?"

There's not an instant of hesitation. "I'm begging you, Obi-wan. You're my only hope."

He's fucking with her, and she wants respect. She pushes harder. "Are you willing to get on your knees and beg?"

He drops to his knees. She shouldn't be surprised at how easily he does, how quick he is to feign submissiveness right before he's planning to drive in the knife. But what comes out of his mouth isn't what she's expecting.

"I'm begging you, Veronica. Find my mother."

Before she can find an answer, the door opens and Keith Mars walks in, taking in the strange tableau of Logan Echolls on his knees in front of his daughter,

While Keith looks at his daughter meaningfully, Logan rises to his feet.

"So, I'll be hearing from you tomorrow?" he says, eyes still on Veronica. And it's not psychotic jackass Logan she's looking at, or cool movie star's son Logan, or even best friend's boyfriend Logan. It's like she's looking at her reflection in a very deep pond. The lost, searching face on the surface reminds her of her own, but there's something dark and murky underneath.

She can't take this case. She'll drown in it. In him. But Veronica 1.0, the yellow cotton Veronica Mars always played by the rules, never took a risk. This Veronica Mars? She swims in deep waters.

"You'll be at school?

"If I've got an appointment, I will."

"I'll find you."

"You're good at that," he says. He nods at Keith, heads for the door, and lets himself out.

"Well?" Keith asks. He's a smart man, and he knows a visit from Logan doesn't mean that his daughter and the actor's son have patched up the differences of the past year.

"Logan needs my help with something personal," she says, hoping her father doesn't ask any more questions. He couldn't possibly know about Logan's crackpot theory about his mother, could he?

Keith heads for the refrigerator to get a beer and pops it open. "Honey, Logan's gonna be a pretty angry guy right now. His mother died, killed herself. He's gonna hate the world. Hate his father."

Veronica nods. "He does."

"I've investigated Aaron Echolls in depth in the past few weeks while I was helping him with that case; there's nothing out there that either I or the press don't already know. If Logan's asking you to dig up dirt on his father to get back at him, don't bother. And don't get involved in his payback schemes. That can only lead to trouble"

Veronica's relieved she doesn't have to lie. "Logan's not asking me to go after his dad." She sits on the couch, draws up her knees. "I'm helping him out because … because I think he needs a friend."

"Logan's got plenty of friends," Keith points out.

"I think he needs me, something I can do for him." She sighs because she's confused not just by Logan and his psychotic appearance at her apartment but by her need to reach out to him and her reaction when he reached out to her.

"I think maybe it has something to do with Lilly, like we're the only two people in the world who knows what it feels like."

Keith sits down next to her and puts his arm around her. "I know you're a big girl, Veronica, and you have your own friends and your own life, but you always know you can talk with me, right?"

She snuggles into his embrace, a little girl again. "I know."

He puts down the beer and reaches for the remote. "Now, what's your poison? Letterman? Leno? Or Ted Koppel?"

Just another night in the Mars household. It's as if she'd never opened that door in the first place.


End file.
